From: hitzman@lycosemail.com
Subject: Story: "The Detectives" Chapter One (M/M)
Date: Tue, 21 Oct 1997 02:39:54 GMT
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Approved: moderated.stories@bigfoot.com
WARNING: If you're under 18, or don't enjoy male/male sex stories, don't
read the following story.
NOTE FROM AUTHOR:
This story doesn't have a lot of sex because I wanted to establish who the
main characters are. I'm going to write more chapters and hopefully begin a
continuing series of stories. I'd appreciate ANY comments or criticism
about the first chapter of this series (good or bad) especially about how I
could improve the story, or the characters. Please send comments about the
story to the newsgroup or to:
hitzman@lycosemail.com
Here's the story:
THE DETECTIVES
by "Hitzman"
CHAPTER ONE - "It All Begins Here"
An ear-piercing sound echoed through Bobby Errikson's bedroom as he was
rudely awakened from a deep sleep. Bobby immediately picked up the phone on
his nightstand, but heard nothing but a dial tone. After being puzzled for
a few seconds about where the sound was coming from, Bobby finally realized
it was his alarm clock.
"Shut up!" Bobby yelled angrily as the alarm kept ringing.
He picked up the alarm clock and attempted to shut it off, but the
buttons were barely visible at this early hour of the morning. Still
exhausted, and becoming increasingly more frustrated, Bobby unplugged the
clock and threw it against the wall.
Eventually, Bobby found the energy to get out of bed and put on his
beat up looking blue robe after searching through a pile of unwashed,
wrinkled clothes. Bobby then headed straight towards the kitchen of his
tiny New York apartment, flinching as he turned on the lights. After
grabbing a Pepsi from his fridge, he realized that today he would be
interviewing people for his new agency. A detective agency, like the ones
he'd always seen on TV, or in the movies. Suddenly, the phone
rang. Bobby slowly walked over to the phone, which was sitting on the
kitchen table, and answered it.
"Hello," Bobby mumbled groggily.
"Hey, Bobby! How's everything going? All right?" the enthusiastic
voice replied. "I think I've got the perfect project for you. A real
comeback piece. You only get 5 minutes of screen time, but hey, it'll get
the critics talking."
A look of annoyance struck Bobby's face as he realized who was on the
phone.
"Alex, I've told you this a thousand times. I'm not interested. I was
on one hit TV show 10 years ago. And I ended up being fired from it because
you wanted to negotiate a higher salary for me. I tried the Hollywood
thing, and I don't want to try it again," Bobby stated, bitterly.
"So what're you gonna do now? Open that stupid detective agency that
you're always talking about?" Alex asked, sarcastically.
"The only reason you don't want me to open the agency is because you
won't make a commission on anything from it."
"Relax. Forget about my commission. I'm thinking of you Bobby.
That's right, I'm thinking of your career. You're only 25. You still have
a shot at hitting it big again. Hey, remember how well you did with those
pop albums you recorded?" Alex said.
"Yeah, I had fun with those albums. But they were only released in
Europe. And besides, they came out when I was doing the TV show. No one
remembers the TV show, the albums, or me, so stop planning this big comeback
thing. I'm going to open my detective agency and I'll be happy, so stop
calling."
"Ah, you'll change your mind. Trust me. I'll call you next week,"
Alex promised.
"You better not. Alex? Alex???" Bobby said, realizing that Alex had
hung up.
"Asshole," Bobby swore as he slammed the phone down.
Bobby went back to his bedroom and quickly got dressed, thinking about
the interviews he'd soon be conducting.
"I hope the ad I put in the newspaper wasn't too much of an invitation
for psychos," Bobby muttered to himself as he struggled to get his pants
on.
Bobby headed back into the kitchen after he finished dressing and
looked at the list of interviews he'd scheduled for that day.
"Shakil's up first at 9 a.m." Bobby read aloud. "Then I've got 5
others to see. God, I hope this all works out."
Time passed quickly, and soon enough the door of Bobby's apartment
buzzed at 5 minutes to 9.
"He's early. That's a good sign," Bobby said, walking towards the
door of his apartment.
"Hi. My name's Shakil Rahman. I'm here about the..."
"Oh my God. Shakil? Is that really you?" Bobby interrupted, staring
straight at the well-built man who stood in his doorway. As Bobby looked at
Shakil, he noticed that everything he was wearing, from his leather jacket,
to his T-shirt and jeans were pitch black. The only thing that distracted
Bobby from Shakil's dark clothing was a gold chain around his neck. His
short, jet black hair was slicked back, and he sported a neatly trimmed
goatee.
Shakil stared straight back at Bobby, who was wearing a plain white
T-shirt with a pair of blue jeans. Bobby's dark brown hair was more rough
looking than Shakil's. Although it was short, it was hanging down slightly
in front of his green eyes, causing him to look like he hadn't gotten out of
bed in days. Both men stood at about the same height, at about 6 feet tall
each.
"Wait a minute. Am I supposed to know you, or somethin'?" Shakil
replied, a bit puzzled.
"Don't you remember? We went to high school together," Bobby replied,
enthusiastically.
"Oh, no. How could I forget? We were in the same class the year
before you left for Hollywood to do that TV show," Shakil stated.
"Come in, sit down," Bobby invited.
"Sit down where?" Shakil said, looking at the almost vacant looking
apartment.
"I don't have a lot of furniture. I had to sell most of it to pay the
rent on this place. There's chairs at the kitchen table over there," Bobby
explained.
"That's fine," Shakil replied, sitting down on one of the chairs that
Bobby pointed out. "Man, I'm sorry I don't remember much about our high
school days."
"That's ok, I'm just glad to see you. So, I'm assuming you read the ad
in the paper, right?" Bobby asked, sitting down across from Shakil.
"Yeah. The one that said you were lookin' for qualified detectives and
investigators for your new agency, correct?"
"Yep. Now, what makes you want to join this agency I'm starting?"
Bobby questioned.
"Well, to be honest I need to pay the bills. I just lost my job at the
NYPD, and I need work."
"Why did they fire you?" Bobby quickly asked, curiously.
"I was gonna rat out the cops who were on the take, so they decided to
shut me up by kickin' me off the force. I was set to become one of the
NYPD's top investigators until they terminated me," Shakil replied.
"So that's what you've been up to since high school," Bobby commented.
"Yeah. I took all the right courses in college, and my uncle taught me
everything I needed to know about bein' an investigator. He even helped me
get my job with the NYPD. He's still on the force," Shakil stated.
"They fired you, but not him?" Bobby questioned.
"Yeah, 'cause I was still pretty new to the force when they fired me.
I was a fast learner, and I was damn good at investigating things, but they
couldn't risk having me report the guys who were bein' paid off. My uncle's
always minded his own business, so they don't need to bother with firin'
him. Here's all my records and recommendations that you probably wanna
see," Shakil said, handing a pile of unorganized papers to Bobby.
Bobby began glancing through the papers and was surprised at how good
Shakil's qualifications were.
"Your papers look great," Bobby exclaimed. "In fact, they're too
good. I have a few questions for you."
"Fire away," Shakil replied, calmly.
"If you're that good an investigator," Bobby said, pointing to the
accolades that Shakil had brought with him, "why are you here looking for
work?"
"The NYPD blackballed me after kickin' me off the force. I couldn't
get work anywhere because they fucked up my records. Real nice of them,
eh?"
"Ok, I'll buy that. But some of your recommendations are from the
NYPD. If they hated your guts, why would they give you recommendations?"
Bobby questioned.
"It was part of the deal they used to try to shut me up. When I told
'em I wasn't gonna take the pay off, they fired me."
"I'll tell you the truth. You're more than qualified for this job, I
have no clue about running a detective agency, I don't have a lot of money
and I can't pay you until we get some customers. I'm tired, and I hate
conducting interviews, so if you're ready to sign some contracts, we'll be
in the detective business together."
"Sure thing, Bobby. Thanks," Shakil replied, gratefully.
After the contracts were signed, Bobby called and informed each of the
other people scheduled for interviews that the job had been taken.
"Now all we have to do is start advertising," Bobby stated.
"Yeah," Shakil agreed. "Uh, by the way...is there any chance I can
stay at your place for awhile?"
"What's wrong with your place?" Bobby asked.
"I got evicted from my apartment for non-payment of rent after I lost
my job with the NYPD," Shakil explained.
"Ok, you can stay here, but I don't have a couch. Like I said before,
I don't have a lot of furniture. I only have one bed," Bobby said.
"That's ok with me," Shakil replied.
"I guess I can sleep on the floor or something," Bobby remarked.
"Hold it. We're just a couple of guys. We can share a bed. Nothin'll
happen," Shakil promised.
"Fine. But you better not wake me up, or do anything strange. Got
it?" Bobby scowled.
"Yes sir," Shakil exclaimed, giving a sarcastic salute to Bobby.
"And don't hog the covers," Bobby added.
"Don't worry. I won't," Shakil promised.
"I'm gonna go out for awhile. Maybe even advertise our services, or
somethin'," Shakil said.
"Wait a minute. We haven't even come up with a name for the agency.
How are you going to promote it this quickly?" Bobby asked.
"I thought we could call ourselves 'Shakil and Bobby: The Private
Dicks'," Shakil jokingly replied.
"Great. Everyone'll think we're an escort service. Your ideas are
already impressing me," Bobby said, sarcastically.
"Look, I'll just make up some flyers about what our services are and
I'll include your phone number. We'll probably get calls from people
lookin' for lost animals, wives who think their husbands are cheating. Shit
like that," Shakil stated.
"Don't we have to get a license or something like that before we open
our agency?" Bobby asked.
"Yeah. I'll take care of all that stuff when I'm out. I still have
some connections that'll help us out," Shakil answered, confidently.
"All right, that sounds good. Get us a license, make up the flyers and
get the word out about our agency. I'll see you when you get back," Bobby
said.
"Ok, pal. See ya soon," Shakil said just before making an exit.
***
It was around 11 o'clock at night when Shakil returned to Bobby's
apartment.
"There you are," Bobby remarked as Shakil entered. "I was beginning
to think you'd fled to Canada to escape working for our agency."
"More sarcastic comments," Shakil laughed. "I love that about you."
"How did you make out with the flyers?" Bobby questioned.
"Pretty good. We might get some calls very soon," Shakil replied.
"Now that I know you're back safely, I'm going to bed," Bobby
announced.
"This early?" Shakil asked in surprise. "I guess I'll go to bed too.
Where's the bedroom?"
"It's this way. Follow me," Bobby said, as he turned off the living
room lights.
As soon as the two men stepped into the room, Shakil began to strip.
"You're not shy are you?" Bobby remarked about Shakil's almost
exhibitionistic display of undressing.
"Nope," Shakil responded, nonchalantly.
"What are you going to sleep in?" Bobby questioned.
"My boxers," Shakil stated as he took off his pants.
Bobby, who was much more modest than Shakil, changed into a T-shirt and
Adidas shorts as Shakil stripped.
Shakil's clothes were now on the floor next to the piles of Bobby's
clothing that were scattered around the bedroom. Shakil's well defined body
was now almost completely naked, revealing his tight chest, golden brown
skin, white boxers, which didn't do much to hide Shakil's large member, and
a tattoo of a smoking gun on his right shoulder.
"Nice tattoo," Bobby observed.
"Thanks. Got it today when I was out," Shakil mentioned. "It still
hurts like hell."
"What's it supposed to represent?" Bobby asked.
"Our agency. The smoking gun stands for the one piece of hard evidence
that can prove a case," Shakil explained.
Shakil then threw himself onto Bobby's bed, his cock almost falling out
of his boxers.
"Which side do you sleep on?" Shakil asked.
"The middle," Bobby answered with a frown.
"You're generally not a very happy person, are you?" Shakil replied.
"I'm happy when I'm sleeping in my bed all alone. But if I have to
choose sides, I'll take the left," Bobby said.
"Fine with me," Shakil said, rolling onto the right side of the bed.
Bobby then crawled onto the left side of the mattress and got under the
covers. As soon as Shakil rolled onto the right side of the bed, something
caught his eye. A magazine was poking out from under the mattress, and
Shakil couldn't resist pulling it out.
"You read Machismo?" Shakil asked.
"Where'd you find that?" Bobby asked, hurriedly.
"Under the bed," Shakil replied.
"I read it for the articles," Bobby quickly stated.
"Sure. Pulitzer prize winning articles like 'Hangin With The Horny
Homeboyz' eh?" Shakil remarked, casually flipping through the magazine.
"One of my friends left it here," Bobby lied.
"Hey, I'm cool with it. I'm gay too," Shakil confessed.
"Hold on," Bobby announced with a stern look. "Just because I read
Machismo doesn't mean I'm gay."
"Ok. It means your heterosexually challenged," Shakil replied.
"My sexuality is none of your business. And you... Gay? You were the
biggest, most macho jock in high school. You acted like you'd punch
someone's lights out if they talked about anything even remotely related to
being gay. Even today you still act like you're some kind of rough bad boy.
And what about Tracy Evans? You were practically engaged to her." Bobby
questioned.
"Yeah, I liked her a lot. I thought I was in love with her and I
thought I was completely straight. Then I met her brother, Tony," Shakil
explained. "Tony and I got to be really good friends. One time, before one
of my dates with Tracy, Tony gave me a blow job. From then on, I knew I was
gay," Shakil admitted, still casually looking through Machismo.
"Thanks for telling me a lot more information than I needed to know
about you. Now if you don't mind I want sleep," Bobby said.
"Suit yourself. I'm gonna spend some quality time in the bathroom with
your Machismo," Shakil stated, getting up from the bed.
"Thanks again for providing me with much more information than I needed
to know," Bobby said. "Just do it quietly and quickly and don't wake me up
when you get back into bed."
"Sure thing, pal," Shakil said, as he headed for the bathroom.
"And turn off the light when you leave," Bobby requested.
"No problem, amigo," Shakil answered, turning off the bedroom light.
The bathroom was located pretty closely to Bobby's bedroom, and Shakil
quickly stepped inside and sat down. He gave his crotch a firm rub before
pulling down his boxers and handling his meat. As soon as his shorts were
down, Shakil formed a tight grip around the shaft of his tool and began a
slow, rough stroke. Shakil's meat was beginning to throb as his stroking
became harder and faster. Shakil's right hand kept stroking away at his
dick while he looked at the Machismo magazine he was holding in his left
hand.
"Oh, yeah," Shakil screamed loudly as his hand jerked back and forth
over his 8 inch cock. "Fuck, that feels good."
Shakil was making sure that Bobby knew exactly what he was doing.
"You're doing that on purpose!" Bobby yelled as he heard Shakil's
loud, obnoxious moans of enjoyment.
"Oh, yeah. This is so fuckin' good. Aw man," Shakil moaned with
pleasure as his hand pumped away at his cock.
"I don't need to know what you're doing with my magazine! Be quiet so
I can sleep, ok?" Bobby shouted.
"I'll be done soon, I just...ohh yeah. That's good," Shakil replied,
hitting his orgasm right as he spoke.
Shakil's orgasm came in one quick powerful explosion, and Bobby's
Machismo was now covered with Shakil's cum.
"Uh, Bobby. I don't know how to say this, but..." Shakil began.
"What is it now?" Bobby asked, annoyed.
"I kinda messed up your magazine, if you know what I mean," Shakil
stated.
A look of disgust crossed Bobby's face as he realized what his new
roommate had just done.
"You can keep the magazine, ok? Consider it a gift from me to you.
Now put it away and let me go to sleep."
"Sure thing, pal," Shakil said, exiting the bathroom. He then threw
the magazine on the floor as he re-entered Bobby's bedroom. Shakil managed
to find his way to Bobby's bed even though the room was completely dark
except for the moonlight shining through the window.
"This bed's kinda small," Shakil observed as he crawled onto the right
side of Bobby's bed and got under the covers.
"Do you have to press yourself so closely against my body?" Bobby
questioned, with an upset tone.
"Hey, this bed is pretty small. Besides, it's not like I'm gonna fuck
you or anything," Shakil replied.
"I'm just glad that you don't sleep naked, or we'd have a whole
different set of issues to discuss," Bobby said.
"Sometimes I sleep with nothin' on when it gets really hot," Shakil
confessed.
"I have air-conditioning. You won't be hot at all," Bobby mentioned,
quickly.
"Ok. Goodnight," Shakil said.
"Goodnight," Bobby replied.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
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